Please Don't Be Beautiful
by TurnedToStone
Summary: Sarah Richards never dreamed that the handsome boy she had an unrequited love for would turn out to be the most Dark Wizard of all time. And she never even suspected that he might be the one to ruin her life forever.
1. Prologue and Revelations

Please Don't Be Beautiful

Prologue

**July 1996**

"Hurry up, Tom."

I turn back toward the window, and stare at my reflection. How long has it been? The last time I saw him, my face was still young, my skin smooth. But now, I'm old. So very old.

I wonder what he looks like now. When I left him, his face was losing its beauty; and the time he tried to trick me, I glimpsed something under the black hood that seemed so hideous that I could not believe it was the same man. Maybe now his body truly reflects the evil inside.

As I move towards the doorway, the photo on the mantelpiece catches my eye once more.

It was taken at school – a Prefect photo. I run my eyes over the faces – Henkah and Liam, I haven't seen them for months…Cassandra, Alyssa and Daniel…I lost contact with them. And there I am, standing there awkwardly and blinking nervously at the camera. Ben and Tom are either side of me, looking completely relaxed and casual. It all seems like a dream now, and I place the photograph face down onto the mantelpiece. Enough of that.

A soft clinking makes me raise my head. It's the chimes that my late husband hung above the door in the hall, the ones that only move if I'm in danger. My lips twist into a smile, because I know he's finally here.

One: Revelations

**June 1938**

I awoke to the sound of yelling.

From what I could make out, it seemed that Mary White had sprung up in boils again.

Giggling to myself, I slipped out of bed and edged down the hallway in my nightdress and bare feet until I reached her room, where Mary was yelling her head off and Mrs Winters was trying to calm her down. Sure enough, ugly red boils had appeared on Mary's face overnight, and I couldn't help sniggering as I crept back to my room to get dressed.

As I did up the buttons on my cardigan, I noticed that today was June 9th. I had a visitor today. I didn't know who he was – a teacher, apparently – and I wanted to make a good impression. I brushed my hair and washed my face, the cold water making me shiver involuntarily as it dribbled down my neck.

He called while I was helping with the washing up. My breakfast stirred uncomfortably in my stomach as Mrs Winters called for me to come into the hall.

"She's a good child, really, but I think she's a bit too addicted to those books…always seems to be in another world. Lost in daydreams, I should think…here she is."

As I approached, Mrs Winters stopped gabbling and I looked at the man standing beside her.

I remember standing there and being completely stunned. He didn't _look_ like a teacher. As far as I knew, teachers didn't wear mad ensembles of pinstriped trousers and spangled robes, or have long red beards the colour of my hair ribbons.

"Uhm… hello, sir," I said, my mouth dry.

"This is Professor Dumbledore, Sarah," Mrs Winters said as the man smiled serenely at me. I smiled back weakly. I didn't like the sound of 'Professor'.

Agh, did Mrs Winters think it was me who had set the apple tree on fire last month? I was _sure _it hadn't been me. You couldn't set trees on fire just by _looking _at them. And it had been raining!

But maybe I did do it, I thought, panicking. And she knows and she's getting me looked at!

I felt my heart pound with worry as we climbed the stairs to my room. Oh no. Oh no. I'm going to get in trouble, I thought desperately. I didn't even _mean _to turn that tureen into a flock of pigeons-

"…school of magic."

My head jerked up. What?

"Sorry?" I said in a small voice.

"I teach at Hogwarts," Professor Dumbledore repeated. "It is a school of magic."

I blinked a bit.

"Wait…I'm not in trouble?"

"Why would you be in trouble?"

"Well…" I blushed a bit. I think he already knew.

"Ah, the incidents? Do not worry; I am certainly not here to take you to an asylum." He chuckled a little, blue eyes twinkling. "You are not the first to be worried about that, Miss Richards. Far from it."

I breathed a slight sigh of relief.

"Um…did you say it was a school of _magic_, sir?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, smiling. "You are a witch. I have come to offer you a place at Hogwarts."

It was like all my dreams were coming true at once. There was something bigger, something better, than living trapped by the walls of the orphanage and confined to a school where all you learnt was reading, writing and arithmetic.

But suddenly a horrible wave of doubt crept over me. I could be gullible sometimes but I wasn't stupid. I needed more evidence than that.

"I can demonstrate, if you wish," Dumbledore said, as if he'd read my mind.

"Yes, please, sir!"

"Very well." From his cloak he withdrew a long, thin stick of wood – a wand? I thought excitedly – and pointed it at my hideous pink summer dress that hung on the back of the door. It promptly turned green.

I clapped my hands together in delight.

"Wow!"

"Would you like me to change it back-?"

"No, thank you!" I was thrilled. The dress actually looked far better in green. "I prefer it now."

His eyes twinkled again.

"Are you convinced?"

"Oh, yes sir!" This was amazing. A million times better than that stuff with the tree and the tureen.

"And so…" He pulled a piece of yellowing parchment from his pocket and handed it to me. "If you wish to attend the school, this is what you will need."

My eyes scanned the list. I saw the words 'cauldron' and 'wand' and countless other things that made my excitement increase.

"Sorry, sir, but what happens at the school?" I asked, trying to suppress my delight. "What would I learn?"

I listened, completely enthralled, as Dumbledore started to explain about all the different subjects – Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, to name a few – and at the end of this short lecture I breathed out a quiet 'wow' once more.

Looking down at the list again, I had a thought.

"Sir, where would I buy all these items?" And _how _would I? I had very little money of my own – my parents had apparently not changed their will before their accident and all I had was the odd bit of change that Mrs Winters would give me for being helpful, or the grimy pennies I found on the street. I had barely enough for a book.

"There is a place in London called Diagon Alley, where you will find everything on the list," Dumbledore replied. "I have already spoken to Mrs Winters, who will assist you with your purchases. There is a trust fund at Hogwarts for those with little money, but you may have to buy some equipment second-hand…however, many other students will also have old equipment too, especially those from Muggle backgrounds like you."

It was then that he gave me the train ticket, and told me how to get to the school train on September 1st. He bid me farewell, leaving me standing there by the window, clutching the little scrap of parchment so tightly that my knuckles were white.


	2. My Life Begins

Two: My Life Begins

Mrs Winters came with me to London.

"I'm a Squib," she said, when I asked her how she knew all this stuff about magic. When she saw that the word meant nothing to me, she elaborated. "I have magical parents but I'm not a witch."

When we reached the Leaky Cauldron, I suddenly felt frightened. In a way, I wanted to stay here in the normal world that I knew, in the street with the smell of baking and the noise of fruitsellers clamouring to make people buy their produce. The Leaky Cauldron looked dark and uninviting, not to mention very grimy.

"Come on," Mrs Winters said, and led me through the doorway.

"Alice! Haven't seen you in a while," the barman said as we entered the pub. "Got time for a Firewhiskey?"

"Err, maybe later, Tom," Mrs Winters said briskly. "Getting Sarah's school equipment today."

"I see!" The barman peered over the counter to get a better look at me. I flushed scarlet. "Hogwarts, then?"

I nodded, blinking furiously.

"She's a bit shy," Mrs Winters said to Tom, and then turned to me. "You're excited really, aren't you?"

"Uhwah," I said, then clamped my hand over my mouth. I nodded like mad as Tom gave me an extremely strange look. Agh. Now I looked like a lunatic as well as a coward.

I kept my head down until we were outside, then looked up and nearly had a heart attack.

"Right, what's first?" Mrs Winters checked the list, not noticing that I had completely blanched.

There were wizards _everywhere._ I could see wands, broomsticks, cauldrons – it looked like a scene from one of my storybooks. At the top of the street, I could see a massive white stone building with 'Gringotts' above the doors.

Mrs Winters saw me looking.

"That's the wizard bank," she explained. "Your mother's parents left you some money – not a huge amount, mind – but there's an enchantment on it so you can't touch it until you're of age."

"Were my parents wizards, then?" I stared at the building.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, I haven't got a clue. You must be at least a half-blood, judging by your grandparents being magical…oh, here's Ollivander's."

I was so busy staring at the street and the people that I didn't realise she was leading me into a shadowed little shop at the edge of the road.

Ollivander's was quite dim, and I struggled to peer into the darkness. I was immediately surprised by a man suddenly looming into my face.

He was old, pale, with great glassy eyes and white hair. I swallowed, not sure what to say.

"Ah, Hogwarts?" Mrs Winters nodded. "I am Mr Ollivander…and you are?"

"Sarah Richards," I mumbled.

"Well, then, Miss Richards, let's find you a wand."

He started off by taking a lot of strange measurements, and I nearly had a heart attack when I realised that he wasn't even stretching the tape measure himself – it was dancing about completely unaided as he slipped back into the dark, between the shelves. I stared around, bewildered. It looked like a library with long slim boxes instead of books.

Almost at once, he was back.

"That will do!" The tape dropped to the floor, motionless. "Try this one -willow, twelve inches, unicorn hair…" I stood there stupidly, just holding it, but almost instantly he pulled it back out of my hand.

"No, no, how about this? Holly, ten inches, dragon heartstring…"

That was another no. And the next. And the next.

"Not to matter, not to matter…yew, phoenix feather, thirteen and a half inches…"

I held the wand in my hand for a moment. Nothing happened, and I dared to raise it an inch. The wand let out a bang like a gunshot and I dropped it.

"No, no, definitely not!"

Blushing, I waited as he came back with another.

"Cherry, twelve and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring."

I took it gingerly after the shock of the last one, but this one felt warm and made my spine tingle. I shivered, and the wand seemed to quiver in my hand.

"Give it a wave," Mr Ollivander suggested.

I moved my arm and the wand emitted a shower of red sparks that spiralled to the floor, glittering in the dim light.

"Indeed! This is it!"

Fascinated by the fact that I had made sparks appear from a thin stick of wood, I paid him for the wand and left the shop still staring at it. Mrs Winters watched me, looking slightly wistful. I was still so amazed that I absent-mindedly strolled straight into a boy my age.

"Oops! Sorry!"

"It's fine," the boy said, grinning. I looked back and saw Mrs Winters staring into a bookshop window, then turned back to the boy.

He was skinny, with a sweet looking face, his hair a warm shade of dark gold, and his blue eyes friendly and inviting. I liked him immediately.

"Hogwarts too?" he asked, looking at the wand in my hand.

"Yes! Are you starting as well?"

"Yup." He stuck out his hand. "I'm Ben Hallthorn."

I took it.

"I'm Sarah Richards. Um, are you from a wizard family?" I asked, noting his slightly unusual surname.

Ben nodded.

"Are you Muggle-born?" he looked interested.

"I don't think so. My parents are dead, see, so I don't know…"

"I'm sorry," Ben said, biting his lip.

I shrugged.

"Don't be. So, um, do you come here often?" I gestured around at the busy street.

"Not really, I live in Southampton. It's a bit far for me to come to London a lot. I love Diagon Alley, though, it's always a bit mad…"

"I've never been here before."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes, loads! I got my wand already." I gave it another random flick and nearly hit Mrs Winters with another spark shower.

"Nice," Ben said as Mrs Winters appeared at my shoulder.

I beamed at him.

"I guess I'll see you at school, then," Ben said cheerily as I started to turn away.

"Yes! See you there!"

As I moved to follow Mrs Winters, I suddenly realised something.

Why had Ben been alone?


	3. Him

Three: Him

I stood in the corridor, unsure of what to do.

I was all ready. I had all my books, my equipment, my robes; I'd read and reread every book on the list; even cleaned my wand three times even though I hadn't used it yet.

But nothing had prepared me for this.

The corridor of the Hogwarts Express was cramped, with people pushing past me right and left. I struggled past a group of older students to look for an empty or near empty compartment.

I'd dealt with everything quite well up unto this point, but now I was completely lost, looking for new students like me, or for Ben's familiar face. No luck.

With some difficulty I reached the end of the carriage and peeked in the glass. There were three boys (none of the familiar) sitting there already, but they looked new like me so I decided to risk it.

I pulled open the compartment door.

"Sorry, is anyone sitting there?" I pointed at the seat by the window, opposite a boy with jet-black hair. Another boy, with longish dark hair and tired-looking eyes, shook his head.

I picked my way over to the seat and sat down. The boy with black hair was staring out of the window, looking bored. He was paying no attention to the other two, the boy who had shaken his head and another with freckles and dirty blond hair.

"What's your name, then?" The blond one nudged me.

"Uhm…Sarah Richards."

"Richards, huh? Are you related to Carwen Richards of the Holyhead Harpies?"

"Uh…" I didn't have a clue what the Holyhead Harpies _were._ "I don't think so..."

"Never mind. I'm Auryn Avery." He nodded at the tired looking boy. "That's Dmitri Lestrange."

Lestrange nodded at me in greeting. I smiled back.

"So, are you a pure-blood or a mudblood?"

"Well…" What was a mudblood? I only knew pure-blood, half-blood and Muggle-born… "I don't know…my parents died when I was little. I know I'm at least half through my mum's parents, see…"

"So you _could_ be related to Carwen Richards?" Avery cut in.

I blinked at him.

"I guess…"

These boys were okay, but I was getting the feeling that they were a bit…judgmental.

"I reckon you're pure," Lestrange said. "There have been quite a few wizards and witches named Richards. Pretty likely."

I shrugged.

This whole time, the boy by the window hadn't said a word. He was looking at me now, though.

"Oh yeah, what's your name?" Avery turned his attention to the boy.

"Tom Riddle." Riddle gave Avery a contemptuous glance and turned away again. Lestrange and I looked at each other nervously. Avery looked embarrassed.

There was an awkward silence.

"What are you reading?" Lestrange leant over and peered at the book on my lap that I'd brought to read on the train.

"It's one of the books on the list," I told him. "_Hogwarts: A History._"

"Oh," he said, leaning back in his seat. "I haven't opened any of them…Dad got them sent by owl order. They're still in the packaging."

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Avery suddenly asked, sitting up straight.

"Slytherin, of course." Lestrange rolled his eyes.

"Same, actually." Avery looked at me. "How about you?"

"Hufflepuff, probably," Lestrange sniggered, and Avery kicked him.

"Don't be mean!"

What's wrong with Hufflepuff? I thought, puzzled.

"I hope you're in Slytherin with us," Avery said confidently, rubbing his temple. "Or actually, Lestrange, go to hell, you can be the Hufflepuff-"

"Shut it!"

I glanced at Riddle. He looked slightly irritated. I couldn't help it – I caught his eye and grinned.

To my surprise, he gave me a slight smile in return.

"I think you'll either be with us, or in Ravenclaw," Avery said. "You look smart."

"Just 'cos she's holding a book doesn't make her _smart_…"

"Bog off, Lestrange!"

"Gryffindor?" Lestrange ignored him.

"Nah, she's too small, Gryffindors are all brawn, aren't they?

I let them argue, staring at the book in my lap.

The train journey seemed to pass quite quickly. Avery forced a Chocolate Frog and a Liquorice Wand on me, and then Lestrange started up a conversation about the teachers and subjects. Riddle sat there in silence, his eyes occasionally wandering towards us.

The ride was followed by a trip by boats across the lake, and I stared up at the castle ahead.

It was colossal. It looked exactly like the sort in story books, with its huge towers made of stone, hundreds and hundreds of windows, great glass greenhouses, turrets, clocktowers – I couldn't pull my eyes away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Avery and Riddle with vaguely stunned expressions like mine, although Lestrange, lounging in the boat with his hand hanging off the side, looked unimpressed.

I'd changed into my robes on the train, as had all the other students, so everyone was wearing black. We huddled together in the entrance hall, and I stood between Lestrange and Riddle, with Avery behind us.

I couldn't keep my eyes to myself. I was transfixed by the ceiling, the walls, the windows, but then I nearly jumped out of my skin as a horrible silvery ghost moved past me, covered in clanking chains and silver blood. His arm passed through mine, and I shivered.

"Slytherin ghost," a girl next to Lestrange whispered loudly as we moved into the Great Hall.

The ceiling, which seemed not to be a ceiling at all, but a velvet sky peppered with stars, immediately caught my eyes. I nearly walked straight into a curly-haired blonde girl in front of me, I was so mesmerised.

The four house tables were filled with watching students, and above each was a banner with the house crest – a golden lion on red for Gryffindor, a black badger on yellow for Hufflepuff, a bronze eagle on blue for Ravenclaw and a silver serpent on green for Slytherin. I'd read all this in _Hogwarts: A History,_ and had it not been for the book, I would have been totally bewildered by the black hat sitting on a stool at the front of the hall, which opened its rip of a mouth and began to sing.

_"You think your mind can hide your secrets_

_But your secrets I can see_

_Open up your head and I can tell_

_Just where you ought to be._

_It might be noble Gryffindor_

_Where you'll make your friends_

_They're brave and strong and good at heart_

_All fighters till the end._

_You may belong in Hufflepuff_

_Where they are just and true_

_You will never find a House_

_Who will be more loyal to you._

Ravenclaw could be your match

_If you've a wise old mind,_

_Witty, smart and good to go_

_And knowledge you will find._

_Or maybe you're a Slytherin_

_Just waiting for your hour_

_To show you're ready to achieve_

_And demonstrate your power._

_So if you're curious, put me on,_

_I'll tell you where to go,_

_And I'll tell you now, I'll tell for sure,_

_That I will always know!"_

The hat fell silent as the hall burst into applause, and a wheezy-looking man called for quiet.

"When I call your name, please come up to the stool where you will be sorted." I gulped. In front of the whole school?

"Avery, Auryn."

Avery left my side and went up to the stool, on which he sat while the hat was placed on his head.

I knew what was going to happen before it did.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared. Avery grinned, pulled off the hat and went to sit at the Slytherin table, which had burst into applause.

"Bennett, Sophia."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Clanwyn, Rhys."

Rhys took a long time, with the hat nearly yelling out Hufflepuff before deciding on Gryffindor.

"Caldwell, Cassandra."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Calling, Liam."

"RAVENCLAW!"

I started to get nervous. It wouldn't take long to get to my name, and I could tell already that there was no way of knowing what house I could possibly be in. I wasn't particularly smart, brave, hardworking or cunning and there was no house suited for people who wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction.

"Dalton, Leigh."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Farraway, Victoria."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Greenstone, Cameron."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Hallthorn, Benjamin."

I glanced up at the sound of Ben's name. He grinned at me as he went to sit on the stool.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

I smiled at him, my face a little green.

"Jenkins, Hortense."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"King, Sylvia."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Lestrange, Dmitri."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Lestrange swaggered off towards the Slytherin table.

"Parker, Henkah."

"SLYTHERIN!"

I felt _really _ill now.

"Richards, Sarah."

I walked up to the stool, my legs wobbly. The hat fell down onto my face, obscuring one of my eyes as it drooped haphazardly.

"Oh, you're an easy one," a little voice said in my ear. "GRYFFINDOR!"

I was a little surprised, but relieved that it had been so quick. The Gryffindor table burst into polite applause as I staggered to their table and took the empty space next to Ben. I looked over at the Slytherin table, where Lestrange looked surprised and Avery disappointed.

"Riddle, Tom."

Riddle wandered up to the stool, completely casual, and as soon as the hat touched his head it screamed "SLYTHERIN!"

"Smalltree, Daniel."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Violet, Miranda."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Worthington, Nathaniel."

"RAVENCLAW!"

As "Zaraska Christine" went to sit at the Slytherin table, I looked up to see Dumbledore at the teachers' table. The hall fell silent as the dumpy little wizard at the centre of the table – the headmaster? I thought – stood up to speak.

"Welcome to all of our new students," he said wheezily, beaming at us all. "And welcome back to all those returning! I hope that this year will be both enjoyable and beneficial for you all as you continue on your path to become respected members of wizarding society! Our gamekeeper Ogg has asked me to remind you that…"

His voice fell on my deaf ears as I looked over at the Slytherin table again. Avery, Lestrange and Riddle were sitting together, and as I looked at them, Avery saw me and grinned, Lestrange winked and Riddle barely acknowledged my presence.

"Made friends with them, have you?" Ben nodded towards the Slytherin table as the headmaster, Dippet, sat down amidst clapping.

"Yes! Avery's pretty nice, Lestrange is alright, and well, Riddle doesn't talk very much but he seems okay…"

"Well, watch out, 'cos there wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin." Ben made 'woo' noises like a ghost and tickled me.

"Stop!" I giggled. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly." He smiled innocently at me. "Potatoes?"

"What?" I looked down at the table and nearly had another of my near-constant heart attacks.

The golden plates, which had been clean moments before, were now filled with food. Not just any food – golden, soft potatoes; gleaming, steaming chicken; freshly boiled vegetables and God knows what else. And was it just me, or were there mint humbugs on the plate next to Rhys?

A second year girl noticed my expression.

"Nice food, huh?"

I nodded blankly.

A few minutes later, all the first years were discussing their backgrounds.

"My parents are Muggles," Rhys said through a mouthful of mashed potato. "Nearly had a heart attack when Dumbledore turned up."

"I'm Muggle-born too!" Leigh, the curly-haired blonde girl exclaimed.

"Same," said a girl who I recognised as Hortense Jenkins. "Although my mum's got a brother who's a wizard, so I guess that lessened the shock."

"How about you?" Rhys asked Ben.

"Both wizards," Ben replied, and then looked at me. "You weren't sure, were you?"

"How can you be not sure?" Rhys asked, looking puzzled.

"My parents died when I was little," I said, spooning diced carrots into my mouth. "Don't know anything about them."

"Oh, sorry." Rhys looked pained, although that might have been because he swallowed a piece of broccoli without chewing it.

"Damn, Rhys, think before you speak, yeah?" Another Welsh student, a fifth year, glared at him.

"I said sorry!"

I looked down at my plate. I didn't want sympathy. My parents were dead; I never knew them; I knew kids at the orphanage who were far worse off; I was dealing just fine.

"So, going to stay friends with the villains in training?" Ben looked at me carefully.

"Yes, of course! They were nice to me!"

"What did you do? Tell them you were a pure-blood?"

"No!" I said, stung. "I told them the truth!"

"And they somehow got it into their heads that you're pure."

"Well, I might be!"

"And if you're not?"

"I'm sure they'll stay friends anyway!"

"Hmm, yeah, of course." Ben rolled his eyes and went back to his chicken. I felt a bit hurt.

What did it matter to him, anyway?


	4. Time Flies

Four: Time Flies

The next few years passed in a blur. I remained friends with Avery, Lestrange and Riddle, although I was finding it awkward to go around with them as their little group had expanded to include various Slytherin boys from not only our year, but from above and below. I forget all their names, but they included Nott, Malfoy and Mulciber, whom I didn't like at all. They didn't like me either. It seemed that not all Slytherins were so quick to allow a Gryffindor into their midst.

Ben remained my best friend. However, like with the Slytherins, I occasionally felt left out while I was with him – he was still effortlessly popular (even more so with girls since he'd become increasingly handsome over the years) and his spare time was full of extra curricular activities like being in the house Quidditch team. I'd tried out twice but hadn't got in.

There was also a little bit of a problem in that I found Tom Riddle ridiculously attractive.

It wasn't particularly strange that I did. For a start, I wasn't the only one to do so – like Ben, he was ridiculously popular, but quietly so. Countless girls giggled when he walked past and he barely noticed. He'd gotten so beautiful over the last four years, something that I hadn't really appreciated when I first met him. He was pale like me, but in a way that didn't make him look sallow, and his dark hair looked soft and I itched to run my hands through it. I tried to ignore my ridiculous crush, as I longed to catch up with the others, to learn as much as those who had lived in this world their entire lives.

Avery and Lestrange couldn't understand my desire to just be left to my work. I liked those two and all, but after Avery accidentally squirted frog guts in my face during Potions and Lestrange set my robes on fire during Transfiguration, my patience with them was a little short. Riddle was the only one who seemed to get it – the only one who understood how it felt to be so entranced by this magical world. Ben, Avery and Lestrange didn't get it at all – all of them being Purebloods, they found my awe of their world completely baffling.

But there was one thing that annoyed me about Tom Riddle. It was his ability to somehow be completely amazing at everything he did.

Coming second best has always got on my nerves. The fact that Riddle didn't even seem bothered about being the best in the year irritated me even further. I wanted to be the best at just _one_ thing – Ben, for example, bested me in Herbology (which wasn't exactly surprising, as I was probably the worst in the class) and Transfiguration, but I beat him in Charms and Potions. But with Riddle it was every singlesubject, and I had to clench my fists under the table every time I got ninety-nine percent and he got one hundred.

After a Potions lesson in this fashion one Thursday during our fourth year, I decided that I'd put in two hundred percent to my Potions homework and beat him for once. I scarfed down dinner and dashed off to the library, then pulled a copy of every book that looked marginally relevant and sat down near a window.

Halfway through a difficult paragraph on the uses of horned slugs in sleeping draughts, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw Riddle standing behind me.

"Are you finished with that?" He pointed at a copy of _Draughts for the Dazed, _which was sitting on top of a clumsy pile of books next to me.

"Um…" I'd actually been about to use it.

"It's okay, I can wait." He smiled graciously and started to turn away.

"No, wait!" I blurted, and then blushed a little. "I mean, if you don't mind sharing, you could sit there…"

"Of course I don't mind." I immediately felt bad for judging him as a smug know-it-all and felt extremely wrong-footed.

Riddle sat down opposite me, and pulled a piece of parchment from his bag. As he unrolled it, I realised that I knew virtually nothing about him. Four years hadn't told me very much. We rarely had conversations alone, as Avery and Lestrange were always around and interrupted us. We certainly had never talked about private or personal issues.

"You're an orphan, is that right?" he suddenly said, catching me off guard.

"Yes…I live in an orphanage…" I readied myself for the sympathies.

They didn't come.

"Same," Riddle said, and I blinked.

"Really?"

"Yes." He started to look for his inkbottle.

"Do you know anything about your parents?"

"Practically nothing." He started to drum his fingers on the table again. I looked down at his hands. Even at fifteen years old, his fingers were delicate, long and tapered, and I felt a little hypnotised by the rhythm of them hitting the wood.

As he pulled a book towards him and started to write, I watched him for a bit. His dark eyes were focussed, his black hair flicking down into his face so he had to regularly push it back, and his pale skin was gleaming in the light from the lamp next to us. I was so enchanted by his perfect appearance that I didn't realise when he looked up at me, having noticed my staring.

He raised his eyebrows. What nice eyebrows.

"Sarah?"

"What?" I asked dreamily, and then snapped back to reality. "Huh? What? Oh dear, sorry-"

Riddle gave me a rare smile.

"You do realise that you've written 'slugs' about ten times in a row, don't you?"

I looked down at my parchment. Sure enough, my absent-minded writing spelled out 'slugs' many times across the page, and my suspended quill was dripping ink into a big splodge on my work.

"Oh, no!"

"I can fix that," Riddle said calmly, and then picked up my work, pulled out his wand and siphoned the ink off with a simple wave.

I gaped at him.

"How did you do that? We haven't learnt that yet!"

He smirked.

"I read ahead."

Gratitude and jealousy fought each other in my throat.

"Thanks," I said in a strangled voice as he handed the parchment back. As I looked down at my half-finished essay, I realised that it would be impossible to finish while Riddle's mere presence was making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There was also the way his voice made a chill run down my spine and how his slightest movement made me blush. It was inevitable.

This torch I was carrying for Tom Riddle wasn't going to go out anytime soon.


End file.
